Insanities From A Sane Mind

"What If" by Emilie Autumn


Here you sit on your high-backed chair
Wonder how the view is from there
I wouldn't know 'cause I like to sit
Upon the floor, yeah upon the floor
If you like we could play a game
Let's pretend that we are the same
But you will have to look much closer
Than you do, closer than you do

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore
And I don't care what you think anyway
'Cause I think you were wrong about me
Yeah what if you were, what if you were

And what if I'm a snowstorm burning
What if I'm a world unturning
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep
What if I'm the kindest demon
Something you may not believe in
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep

I know you've got it figured out
Tell me what I am all about
And I just might learn a thing or two
Hundred about you, maybe about you
I'm the end of your telescope
I don't change just to suit your vision
'Cause I am bound by a fraying rope
Around my hands, tied around my hands

And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free
And put your hands over both your ears
Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not
The perfect girl you thought
Well what have I got to lose

And what if I'm a weeping willow
Laughing tears upon my pillow
What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone
What if I'm a toothless leopard
What if I'm a sheepless shepherd
What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home

You don't know me
Never will, never will
I'm outside your picture frame
And the glass is breaking now
You can't see me
Never will, never will
If you're never gonna see

What if I'm a crowded desert
Too much pain with little pleasure
What if I'm the nicest place you never want to go
What if I don't know who I am
Will that keep us both from trying
To find out and when you have
Be sure to let me know

What if I'm a snowstorm burning
What if I'm a world unturning
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep
What if I'm the kindest demon
Something you may not believe in
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep
Sleep...
Sleep...

What is my heart feeling?  Distant, disconnected and a bit lost.  As it turns out, missing 3 beloveds at once is too much for me to handle.  It's wretched.  It has broken my focus, my ability to sleep, my smile.  This is too much.  I wish to say I cannot do this again but I know, in truth, to keep everyone in the life of freedom we enjoy I will have to.  It seems unbearable.  Immeasurable.  Beyond comprehension.

I could scream out what I need right now and in response get a pat on the head and be told what I really need.  Or be told it's inconvenient or that the circumstances just aren't right.  In the end it seems that everything is just my fault.  Endlessly my fault.  Then I'm making a big deal of nothing, I'm the one that's busy and shouldn't be bothered.  Am i so unimportant that nothing is valid?  Is it so difficult to ask what would be best for me?  Even moreso, would it be so hard to actually do what is best for me?  Why do expressed worries and needs have to be seen as overbearing and negative?  Is love so hard to give? 

I miss my Husband.  We've had one good talk since he left for China 9 days ago and it only lasted 20 precious minutes.  At least I take solace in knowing he's having a wonderful time.  I miss my Partner.  He's so deep in to his own life right now that I can't even get a return call.  I have infinite sorrow for what he is going through.  It fills me with anger that I'm not there for him.  I'd give the world to hear his loving voice when he says he misses me.  Finding a man who expresses himself is such a gorgeous rarity.  I can't say how much I need that right now.

6 more days until my Husband is home and we can laugh.  21 days until my Partner wraps his arms around me and calls me his gorgeous girl.  I can count on those two things.  They'll be genuine, they'll be full of love, they'll bring me back light.  It hurts to be a collectivist now, but soon it will remind me of how powerful we are.    

Twelve days.  In twelve days my gorgeous Partner will be back under my roof, once again making us a complete family.  I'm a combination of excited, nervous and exhilarated.  That's how I get when the time gets near.  Being nervous and giddy makes me feel like a silly little girl.

My crazy little source of dissatisfaction with life will be solved in 12 days.  I know that, so I don't feel as upset and depressed over it.  I know I'm loved in one way or another by the people in my life.  I feel loved, I don't ever doubt it.  I desperately need to be told I'm loved.  Have a hand on the side of my face, eyes looking in to mine.  Will I get that?  No, but I'll have a feeling close to it yet again in twelve days.

He teases me, he toys with me, he's brash and rough.  For the most part, those are favorable traits in my eyes.  I tend to prefer men that way.  The main thing is that there are moments of amazing tenderness and kindness.  A great paradox.

I woke up with tears this morning.  It's not the first morning in recent weeks, the just one that finally affected me.  I'm used to crying quietly.  I've had to do in through many phases in my life.  This is an old familiar feeling.  The one of not being wanted, of not being good enough, of not doing enough.  I wonder if in recent months I've become too independent and if this is the price and warning to pay.  Perhaps it is.  Or perhaps I'm not the problem.  I just can't convince myself of that.  Somehow this is my fault.

It's been weeks since my husband last said he loved me, even on the phone or in passing.  I tell him that I love him and receive a joke or cold silence.  It's been longer still since he's given me more than a casual hug, and he barely returns the ones I give.  I don't get a kiss goodbye in the morning.  He doesn't smile when he sees me, he doesn't sit next to me when we're alone.  It's my fault he says, I've cut him off and made myself distant from him, so he's just reacting.  He says I'm untouchable, I'm not understanding and I'm not affectionate, we're too far apart.  Am I?   Are we?

We've had phases like this.  I tell him what I need and it goes unfulfilled until I adjust.  Then, some months or years later he'll tell me he needs what I had needed.  The difference is, the world has to stop to fulfill his needs and wants.  The world moves past mine.  Thankfully, there's no resentment there since, well, our needs are the same just at different times so in a backwards way mine get met sooner or later.  Mostly later, and mostly temporarily.  I've gotten very used to filling the marble jar whenever I can knowing that it might be ages before I see a marble again.

There's a childlike fragility to me.  A deep one.  I need to be touched to be happy.  I need to have love, and be told it's there, to be happy.   In my eyes, that is something I seek only from my husband.  What do I do if he sporadically doesn't provide that?  I wither, I cycle downward and I start to isolate and give up.  All these years of cyclical isolation have brought me to wondering if I should seek love from someone else as my primary source.  It wouldn't be fair, I know, but I wouldn't have to suffer like this.  It would probably cost me my marriage if I sought it out.  Even if I sought it from my Partner.  Granted, he gives love freely in his phases as well.  Phases, none consistently.  Am I truly the untouchable, the unlovable and the unwanted?

I know if I voice all this I'll be told I'm just being sensitive.  If I voice it all to my husband he'll threaten to leave me.  If I voice it to my Partner he'll tell me it's just a phase and to work harder.  None of that is what I need.  None of that helps.  Then again, who ever said that this life was about what helps me?  It's my place to bow my head and cry quietly.

Tomorrow turns in to one day, then two, then three.  Next you know life has passed and you don't know where it went.  I loathe that feeling.  It means days were wasted, time was not taken with pride and no memories were created.  That doesn't sit well with me. 

Another friend passed away.  A motorcycle accident.  Unfortunately, I can say with honesty that someday his memory will fade, as will his name.  It is not so with Fred.  I still miss him sorely.  Especially today.  He invaded my dreams last night like a bright, vivid longing.  It was a night of torment and anguish.  Nightmares, thrashing, tension, pain, loss, stress, sorrow.  Endless sorrow.  I hide as many tears as I openly shed for him.  I don't know if the wound will ever heal.

My littlest one had his first ER visit.  Nothing major, just a very nicely split lip that was the result of a rather dramatic tantrum.  So it goes I've been told.  I still wonder if I'm doing something wrong in raising him how I do.  Personality plays a part, yes, but I've been such a detached and distant parent in my eyes.  I'd like a child that is full of peace, not frustration.  There must be more I can do to foster that.

I've seen more faces of disapproval and heard more words of disdain in the past few weeks than in the past few years.  Exactly why I don't know.  It brings me to a deep set depression.  An altering depression.  I come to realize that I've been very reliant the past few years and that most definitely needs to end.  If I can't stand on my own feet when well, I stand no chance of survival when ill.  I need to go back to loving with balance, to proper restraint and more logic.  Higher productivity, and less planning.  My intuition is very precise, quick and accurate so I need to stop playing every path and just follow my gypsy heart.  I need to write with my own strength, and not with confusion. 

I'm nobody's darling.  I'm truly not.  I'm someone's girl, someone's partner, someone's wife, someone's confusion, someone's dedication.  No one's darling.  I'm a proud little outcast, even in my own Tribe.  I have my own fights, my own desires, my own strength.   So much so that no one dares make me their darling, and I don't dare allow them to.  It's a lonely little path on days like today, but it's my path all the same.

Be Nobody's Darling

by Alice Walker

Be nobody's darling;
Be an outcast.
Take the contradictions
Of your life
And wrap around
You like a shawl,
To parry stones
To keep you warm.
Watch the people succumb
To madness
With ample cheer
Let them look askance at you
And you askance reply.
Be an outcast;
Be pleased to walk alone
(Uncool)
or line the crowded
river beds
with other impetuous
Fools.
Make a merry gathering
On the bank
Where thousands perished
For brave hurt words
They said.
Be nobody's darling;
Be an outcast
Qualified to live
Among your dead...... 

I'm not considered gorgeous,
enchanting or even pretty
by most
No, I get the other words
the ones like tall, unique,
graceful, elegant and dark
The words that highlight
something specific so as
to not include the whole me
Modern beauty escapes me
and I take that with pride
High esteem is held in
maintaining a self away
from trend and pretenses
How then do I satisfy
an appetite for the trendy
the fake, the gorgeous
when they are things I
will never be?
Such society eludes me
and I feel safer
being the undescribed
the strange
the dark
me.

I'm tired.  A deep, pervasive, soul sort of tired.  Today feels like a burden and an exhausting strain.  It's truly a shame as I have two beautiful children I could have spent this morning laughing with.  Instead I spent this morning cleaning up things that they had broken.  Such gloom.

I feel isolation coming on.  The endless sort of isolation I used to engage in, although not completely by choice.  I lose contact with friends, with loved ones, with humanity as a whole. I become solely focused on what occurs within my home.  No leaving unless necessary.  No unnecessary words spoken.  I want to stave it off and stay full of life.  Desperately so.  It's just becoming hard to balance outside world demands and home demands.  People just don't understand isolation, even for short periods of time.  They walk away from you, they get angry with you, they distrust you and call you a flake.   There's no win.

How do I balance an indecently (and constantly) depressed husband and the life that I have found?  More importantly, how do I tend to him without losing myself again.  I've been lost so much in my life.  Far too much.  This beautiful wandering is far preferred.  So how do I hold on to it?

... Or unwanted I should say.  Am I truly unwanted?  I don't think so or at least I hope not.  It's a feeling that stems from how I was treated just over an hour ago.  Is it a rational reaction?  I don't know.  Perhaps I'm sensitive, perhaps I'm seeing too much in to something, perhaps I'm just a mouse who's been mistreated a few too many times.  If only it were so easy to describe and explain.

I firmly believe that if you respect a person you talk to them.  No matter the topic, no matter the hurt, you talk to them.  That shows that they matter, that they're important.  If you want a person you talk to them with constant kindness.  Again, no matter the topic and no matter the hurt.  Treat them as though they are something special, something worth understanding, something important.  Why don't others see the same?  I constantly yearn for a person who will just tell me about their day, their work, their life.  I don't get much of that.

I want to be wanted.  It sounds reliant, dependent and a lot of others things that the feeling is not.  In wanting to be wanted it's more a feeling of wanting to spend time with those who want me near them.  Not just physically.  Being physically wanted is dandy for a short time, but it fades and leaves you with nothing.  I want to be wanted as a companion.  A true companion.  One that shares in footsteps, laughter, beauty and depth.  Someone who is viewed with loving eyes.  Someone who is trusted, believed, and kept in esteem.   In even the most shallow of ways I want to be beautiful in someone's eyes and have those eyes only see me as that beauty.  Not a creature that gains and falls from grace without warning and without reason.  It's heart wrenching to look around and truly wonder if being wanted completely is possible.  I know I am wanted as a wife, as a mother, as a Partner, as a friend, useful compatriot.  The thing is that in no area of life do I believe I am wanted, and even more precisely loved, as just me.  Perhaps that's my own doing.  How can anyone love and want a person they cannot see?

The strangest thing happened today.  Seemingly out of nowhere I went through withdraw.  Well, not completely out of nowhere.  I was sitting in class watching a video on addiction when I saw an all too familiar scene from my past.  A man shooting up, a woman heating and snorting.  Neither of those were preferred for me (in fact I never used a needle) but still the scene was enough to bring back muscle memory of a sort.  A very dark sort. 

There are things that can not be denied now.  My husband and I spoke briefly about what I experienced.  The shakes, the sweats, the fits, the slurred speech.  I suppose I was an addict, even though I walked away so easily.  He remembers those two weeks of struggle 10 years ago when I was trying to clear my body of speed (Methamphetamine if you would like to be technical).  I yelled, I paced, I cried, I tried to break up with him (he believes it was so that I could make my lifestyle acceptable and not have to face the unknown.  I think he's right) but, in the end I stopped.  I've never looked back.  I somehow thought that because I walked away without a second thought that I was not addicted.  I can see I was wrong. 

My Partner is fighting the same struggle.  For years we have hid who we are from the world out of a protection, out of fear, and in a way out of coping.  In his eyes my having a withdraw makes me human, something he has waited for in a sense.   He's not fighting alone.  Although I've given him constant understanding and support I've been something separate from him, even with a shared demon.  We're definitely not separate anymore.  This is a fight that warrants attention now.  It warrants respect. 

Perhaps this is part of healing.  No more denial, no more hiding.  Yes, I was an addict.   That's done now.  Time to heal the wound, face the darkness and pick myself back up.  I don't want to ever go back again.

I was called an "old fashioned" girl last night.  It's not the first time someone has really gotten to see who I am and stated that.  The term old fashioned doesn't sit too well with me, so I use traditional.  Yes, I am a very traditional girl.  Proudly so.  I have no problem walking two steps behind and maintaining my own identity.  There is honor in that.  I may not outwardly show just how deeply it runs, but I am truly defined by tradition.  Some find it intimidating, some find it confusing.  I find it to make absolute sense and completely suit my soul.

All said, though, where does the tradition come from and what does it mean?   I was born in to a "Southern" family.  Literally.  My Grandmother was raised in a Methodist Orphanage in North Carolina.  You don't get much more southern than that.  Even more, though, I identified young with the traditions she brought with her.  Some of the most formidable of traditions have to do with relationships and self identity.



 

So we must be divided; sweetest, stay,

Once more, mine-eyes would seek thy glance’s light.

At night I shall recall thee Thou, I pray,

Be mindful of the days of our delight.

Come to me in my dreams, I ask of thee,

And even in my dreams be gentle unto me.

 

If thou shouldst send me greeting in the grave,

The cold breath of the grave itself were sweet;

Oh, take my life, my life, ‘tis all I have,

If it should make thee live, I do entreat.

I think that I shall hear when I am dead,

The rustle of thy gown, thy footsteps overhead.

- Yehuda Halevi (1075-1141)

I don't know where to start.  I'm such a divinely perfect mixture of emotions.  I'm scared, horrified in fact, of my physical future.  On the other hand I'm the most contented I've been in years, to say the least.   You get used to being a certain level in life and then something raises the bar for you.  The bar has been most definitely raised.  Two raisings in two years.  It's dumbfounding how much my life has changed.

A year and one week ago I was stepping off an airplane.  I was tan, I was calm, I was relaxed, and I was insanely happy and serene.  2 and a half weeks in divine, tropical, spiritual awakening.  I had found what I was looking for.  A tribe, a triad, a family, a home.  I knew then, just as I know now, that achieving that peace again would take years of work.  Work well worth it.  I have to grow, to build, to heal, to progress.  I need to find my strength, my peace, my independence and my pride again so that our Tribe can survive.  Peace requires turmoil, wholeness requires rebuilding. 

The last few days have been endless, packed, stressful, disparaging, and exhausting.  Under it all, though, there is a sense of peace, of healing and of hope.  Little by little, step by step.  I'm not demanding, I'm not depressed.  I'm productive, I'm calm, and I'm quiet, I'm unrelenting, I'm amazingly loving.  I adore quiet.  Letting my inner mouse out has been a welcome treat the last few days.  Curling up in a chair and reading.  Lighting candles and sitting.  Sitting on the floor of a hot shower and just breathing.  It's divine. 

My camera is charged.  I don't know where to go but I know I need to.  Nourish the strength, the quiet, the peace.  The more I nourish it, the more I can realize myself again.

2007.  A year that is gladly behind me.  Yes it has been the beginning of many beautiful things but, on the whole, it has destroyed me.  I ended the year as I have never before.  Frustrated, lost, confused, and with higher walls than a human being should be allowed to build.  I had not been touched with tenderness in over 2 days.  I had not made a decision for myself, or done something I really wanted to do.  I did what I was obliged to do and nothing more.  A good portion of the past few months have been empty, hollow, unsatisfying and superficial.  That's not me.  

One of my last acts of the old year was to leave the Club scene behind and take the phone numbers of only those I wanted to continue to relate to.  That was a grand total of 3 people.  So, alas, after 4 years, that chapter in my life is closed.  Completely.  I no longer have any desire to be a scene girl.  Granted, I told no one other than those 3 that my intent was to walk away.  My husband did not find out until this morning, and my Partner a few minutes ago.  They utterly agree.  That scene never suited me, created too much desire for chaos and introduced far too much drama and noise.  I'll still go dancing on occasion, but the parties and the people are behind me.  Good riddance.  I'll take solace in my return to Ballroom and singing.  They suit my soul and my solace.  My choice of dance venues truly reflects the state of my life. 

So goodbye 2007.  Destructive year of sadness.  Greetings and warm tidings to 2008.

We love the trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share
You find magic from your God and we find magic everywhere.

What is religion?

I'd adore an answer to that question which wasn't wrought with danger.  An answer from a monotheistic individual who didn't have an angle.   Scholars, in my view, describe it best:  a systematic belief without proof of a higher being.  Good enough for me.  Rituals, holidays, a book, organization of some sort.  That seems to sum up theistic religions at least.

I was Christian once (Missouri Synod Lutheran to be exact) and I did my good duties.  I was a missionary, and an acolyte.  I helped the poor, the needy and the ones who hadn't found Jesus.   I wore the robes and lit the alter candles.  Yes, I went to Sunday school, through Confirmation, and to "Jr Seminary".  I know the "Good Book" inside and out, as well as a good portion of Biblical History.   Then I found my own path.

I still try to help.  Not just the poor and the needy but anyone who looks like they need a smile.  Belief in Jesus has nothing to do with it.  Instead, it's a love and respect for all.

I have a terrific series of protective walls.  They're tall, they're thick, they're strong.  They create an outward person who is almost the opposite of my inward.  I jokingly say I'm a lesson in cognitive dissonance.  People laugh not realizing how serious I am.  It lends to false complexity because, well, both the person outside the walls and the person within are me, but at the same time they are not.  My passions are the same when left to be me or left to be my facade.  It's how I deal with people that is so very different.  That makes things unnecessarily difficult sometimes, especially when you have to deconstruct yourself in order to assure you don't regret anything or make a careless mistake.

This past year and a half has been a lesson in deconstruction.  My Sister Wife has been the closest observer and tells me frequently that she has seen more change in me over the past year than most people change in a lifetime.  It's been difficult.  I feel so raw, so brash.  Granted, I am a bit raw deep down.  I don't like games, or playing unnecessarily with words. 

So, here my Sister Wife comes to the rescue again.  Her timing is always immaculate and dumbfounding.  A perfectly timed call and my mind goes clear again.  I tend to think a lot when I'm lost or changing and then not much at all when I'm at peace.  My brain was moving at record pace while I was talking to her, now it's hardly moving at all. 

A girl can rely
On intuition
On trust
On possibility
To get her
Through life
Through love
Through inevitability
On her way to find
An open heart
A stable home
Her own docility
With a sense of hope
A sense of pride
A sense of delight
With no hostility
A light in the dark
In her hair
In her eyes
A touch of whimsy

Today was the memorial for a dear and most beloved friend.  A man that I laughed with, cried with, fought with, raised children with, and would have (and did do) anything for.  The loss of him has been devastating, to say the absolute least.  It has been the cause of angst and animosity towards everything around me.  It was sudden, unfair, and unwarranted.  He was too loved, to adored and too loving to be gone. 

I sought reason, I sought spiritualism.  I sought anything.  Some small relief.  I thought today I'd find it.  My Husband and I were the "key" speakers at his Memorial at the request of his family.  What an immense and profound honor.  We spoke in tandem of who he was, what he did and what he meant to us.  He meant no less than the world to us and our children.  We cried, we laughed, we shared with a crowd of dear friends and family.   It was amazing to look over a sea of faces I hadn't seen in years.  It brought back such memory of things past and the amazing times we had.  It made me wonder why it had all fallen apart.  The answer was simple in it's logic.  We all thought we had other things to do.  We were all wrong.